


Picking Up the Pieces

by Brittayarose



Series: Defiance and Devotion [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bottom Dean, Comfort, Dominant Sam, Dubious Consent, Kink, M/M, Non-consensual punishment, Sub!Dean, Submissive Dean, Top Sam, Torture, hurt!Dean, memories of non con/rape scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brittayarose/pseuds/Brittayarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will anything be the same after Castiel's return? </p>
<p>(This is the second part of a series, and it probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the first part.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize as the first chapter is completely lacking smut, but I had to get all this talking and explaining out of the way to wrap up what happened at the end of the first part of the series.

Castiel recovered his breath and sat up, leaning heavily on one arm. Dean was cradling Sam's head in his lap and shooting a death glare at him. “What did you do?!” he demanded a second time, not even remotely concerned at Cas’s unexpected collapse.

“He’ll be fine Dean, I promise. Better than fine. I returned his soul.” Castiel reached out and gently put his hand on Dean’s bare shoulder, looking more than a little alarmed. “What has he done to you?”

“Don’t touch me!” Dean snapped, twisting his torso away from Cas. “Where the hell have you been?” Dean couldn't keep himself from shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I tried calling out to you every day for months!”

“I’m so sorry Dean. I… Someone took my grace. I spent the past year as a human. I tried calling all your cell phones… I looked for you, but you seemed to have disappeared. I had human needs… I had to eat, and sleep and urinate. It was challenging. When Gabriel found me-“

“I thought Gabriel was dead.”

“Yes well, he is the trickster.” Cas continued, “When he found me and he helped me get my grace back I contacted you immediately. Unfortunately I didn’t realize my grace wasn’t ‘fully charged’ so to speak. I couldn’t reach out to you again and I couldn’t find you with the angel warding on your ribs.” 

“And Gabriel wouldn’t help you?”

“No, he went back into hiding. I have no way of reaching him, and the rest of the angels are in chaos right now, no one would listen to me. I am on my own. As soon as I had full power I made the journey to hell to retrieve Sam’s soul. It was treacherous, I only barely made it out alive. Then I had to repair the damage done to it in hell. That took a lot out of me and I had to recover my power again.” Cas sighed and looked at Dean who opened his mouth to say something. “Wait, there’s more Dean. I… I couldn’t repair all the damage. I had to use some of my grace to stitch up part of it. If that thread of grace ever comes undone… Well I don’t know what will happen. And I’m afraid that because Sam has part of my grace inside of him now I can never recover to my full strength… I’m still an angel, but...” He sighed and looked down at the floor morosely. 

Dean was overwhelmed by everything Castiel was saying. His whole world seemed to be crumbling around him, he didn’t understand. He was supposed to be happy, relieved, overjoyed. His Sam would be back, he’d be normal old Sam again (mostly) and Dean didn’t have to be his slave anymore. It was everything he was supposed to want. So why was he so upset? Why did it feel so utterly terrifying? He turned his tear filled eyes to stare blankly at Castiel, feeling lost and confused. He didn’t know what to say.

Cas stared at him with concern evident on his face. “We should move Sam somewhere more comfortable Dean, he’s not going to be awake for a while.” He said gently at last.

Dean just nodded numbly and attempted to help lift Sam, Cas carried most of the weight though as Dean led him into the bedroom where Sam had just fucked him hours before. They laid Sam's giant limp body carefully on the red sheets and Dean took a moment to really look at his little brother. He hadn’t seen him sleep in over a year. He seemed peaceful at least. For now anyway. Dean reached carefully into Sam’s pocket, and pulled out the little silver key. He felt a knot of worry in his stomach as he unlocked the padlock between his cuffs, like Sam was going to wake up and punish him for everything, again. Cas was definitely not at full power, he looked like shit, what if this whole soul thing didn’t take? 

Cas could read the worry on Dean’s face. “It’s okay Dean,” He said trying to be reassuring. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” His hand was back on Dean’s arm.

Dean jerked away from him like he'd been burned. “Don’t. Just don’t. You’re not my fucking saviour.” He couldn’t even pinpoint why exactly he was so mad. Castiel had just risked his life to save Dean, and Sam too. He should be grateful, and yet he knew he was was being a complete ass. He stormed out of the room and went to hide in the bathroom. Thinking of acting like an ass had reminded him that he had to get that fucking plug out of his. It was humiliating enough that Cas had found him bound and beaten and half naked, at least he didn’t have to know about this too. He took the time to wash it and hide it in the cabinet under the sink and then he just stood there wiping away the silent tears. If he could get it all out now then he could pretend like everything was fine when he went back out there, maybe even apologize to Cas. 

When he finally came back out Castiel was sitting on the couch by himself staring at his hands. Awkward. Dean sat down stiffly on the other end of the couch, his ass still sore. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and he felt exhausted, like he could just melt into the couch and not get up again for a few weeks. The cabin felt empty without Sam’s overbearing presence there, keeping him in check, forcing him to obey, submit, beg, fuck. Fuck! Panic seized his gut and wrenched it into a knotted ball of anxiety. What the fuck was going to happen now? Was he just supposed to go back to hunting? Would Sam run away again like he always had when things got to be too much for him? He couldn't stand the thought of Sam leaving him, not after everything. Dean hadn’t had a drink in over a year, but if he had ever needed one now was the time. 

He sucked in a deep breath and looked down at the worn denim covering his knees and the leather cuffs that he wasn’t quite ready to take off his wrists, not daring himself to meet Castiel’s (probably hurt) gaze. “I’m sorry Cas.” He managed to wheeze out eventually. “I… that was… Thank you for returning Sam's soul. I…” he wasn’t sure what the rest of that sentence was. Everything was swirling around too much in his mind. He couldn’t make sense of anything right now.

“Don’t mention it.” Cas said attempting to be reassuring. “You need to eat something Dean, you seem rather shaky and… tired.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, leaving the rest unsaid, maybe his year as a human had taught him something about not saying everything that popped into his head.

“Yeah… You’re probably right.” Dean nodded reluctantly and made his way to the kitchen. He glanced over at the pile of laundry on the floor, where he had left it when… Sam would punish him for leaving a mess. Or he would have if… but not anymore. Not now, he was fixed now. Everything was fixed. More hot tears spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away with his forearm, sniffling like a baby. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Here he was crying in the goddamned kitchen because his brother had his soul back. He decided it was sleep deprivation and hunger, all this bullshit would go away once he ate something and got some actual sleep. He rummaged around inside the fridge for a bit and came up with enough sliced turkey to make a sandwich. It would have to do. Cas started talking again as he made the food and Dean sighed, wishing the angel would just go away so he could have time to think.

“He won’t remember hell. I locked that part away… but I couldn’t quite remove the memories of what he did this past year. He’ll start to remember those, piece by piece.” Again he left it unsaid that maybe the memories of hell would have been a better choice, but Dean could _feel _Castiel’s eyes hot on his lacerated back, judging, pitying. He put the plate he was holding down on the counter and walked away. He needed a shirt. **Now **.****__

__He returned wearing a rather worn gray t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame, more so than it had a year ago. All of his clothes were slightly bigger on him now, and he wasn't even sure when exactly that had happened. He sat down on the couch with the plate of food and Cas turned toward him, pinning him with those brilliant blue eyes, and the distinct expression of a kicked puppy. “I am sorry I couldn’t get here sooner Dean. I can’t imagine wha-“_ _

__Dean cut him off. “Look, I’m fine. There wasn’t anything you could have done, just drop it.” He took a bite of his sandwich, considering the matter over._ _

__“When my power returns to full strength I can heal-”_ _

__“I said **drop it**!” Dean barked. Cas eyed him like a wild baby animal, a mixture of wary concern written across his face. Dean finished eating and walked to the kitchen, dropping his plate into the sink with a loud clatter. He decided sleep was in order, but with Cas here he had no idea where he was supposed to sleep or if he was supposed to sit there awkwardly with him, like they were having him over for tea or something. Maybe he could tell him to leave? It wasn’t like he had been invited. Then again he did just ‘save’ Dean. “I think you were right… I am tired.” He ventured as he sat back down on the couch. Without any warning Castiel touched him on the forehead and the whole world winked out of view._ _


	2. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam starts to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lots of angst and some memories of things that happened in part 1.

Sam opened one eye and brushed the hair out of his face, he seemed to be laying on a bed with red sheets and he could hear voices in another room. His head was pounding and his chest felt tight and he didn’t know why. The voices in the other room slowly started to register, one of them was definitely Dean and he sounded angry. He sat up and listened through the wooden door for a moment and heard Dean giving someone shit.

“You can’t just make me _‘take a little nap’_ whenever you feel like it Cas! I don’t want your help!”

“You may not want it, but you obviously need it. You look horrible.” Apparently Cas was still as blunt as ever. “You’ve been living in some isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere for over a year. You **need** help Dean. Let me help you.” And Dean was still as stubborn as ever.

The last time Sam saw Castiel he had exploded into a gory spray of blood and viscera. Memories of dragging Lucifer and Michael into the pit started to come back to him. Why couldn’t he remember being in hell? If Dean had been living in a cabin for a year, then where had he been this whole time? Where were they now? He got up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He caught a glimpse of himself in a floor length mirror on the wall. He looked alright for someone who was missing at least a year of his life. He walked into the living room and stared openly at his brother. He was thinner than the last time he had seen him, and his hair was at least 3 inches long on top. His lower lip was bruised and scabbing over, and he looked a little beaten up, but he was still as beautiful as ever.

“S-Sam?” Dean asked tentatively as he looked up, his voice cracking. Sam nodded and crossed the room to where his brother was standing, Sam held his arms out for a hug. Dean paused reluctantly at first, but then reached out to him. “Sammy, is it really you?” he sounded pained. And Sam had to wonder just how Dean had managed to bring him back and how much more guilt he had accumulated in the past year. 

“It’s really me. I promise. I understand if you want to do the usual tests though…” Sam could feel Dean shrinking away from him like he was injured. Whatever hunt he was on last must have been a rough one. 

“It’s okay Sammy, I know it’s you.” Dean clapped him on the back and stood there warily for a minute. “How… How much do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is pulling Michael down into the pit with me… And then waking up here just now. Where are we anyway? I don’t know why, but this place seems really familiar somehow.”

Dean looked like he was contemplating something for a moment before answering him. “It’s a long story…” he said at last. Sam was sure that was a cop-out, wherever they were, whatever had happened, Dean didn’t want to talk about it. That couldn’t be good. 

Sam and Cas sat down at the kitchen table while Dean busied himself making eggs for breakfast. Sam was starving, he felt like he hadn’t eaten in a year. He supposed he probably hadn’t, what with being trapped in hell and all. He watched his brother move around the kitchen with a sense of ease, like he had been living here for a long time. Sam figured that fit with what Cas had been saying earlier. Dean’s new accessories hadn’t escaped Sam’s notice either. “What’s with the rock star bracelets?” Sam asked wondering if Dean had started exploring his kinky side in the time that Sam was gone. 

Before Dean could answer Sam was clutching his head in pain as a massive migraine attacked. Hazy images of Dean, strung up in those cuffs filled his mind, his back was covered in crisscrossing slashes and open wounds dripping blood down to his waistband and his plump pink lips were spread open with a black ball gag. His beautiful jade eyes were full of tears and remorse. The noises he was making were obscene, and Sam couldn’t help how his body reacted to the scene before him. He had never in his life been more aroused or disgusted with himself. 

When the images stopped and his headache had cleared Dean was by his side, asking him what had happened and if he was alright. “I don’t know” Sam panted, “I think I’m having visions again…”

“Of what?” Dean inquired nervously as he cast a quick glimpse from the corner of his eye toward Castiel.

Sam flushed and stammered, grateful that there was a table covering his lower body parts. He couldn’t make his eyes meet Dean’s. “I think you should take those off. I saw… someone had hurt you… you were wearing those.”

Dean looked conflicted, like he was battling something out internally. “I don’t want to. Not… Not yet. They were a gift…” He said at last, and then added quietly “I don’t think that will happen again anyway, not with you here.”

“Again? What do you mean again?” Sam could feel a burning anger rising up inside of him. Dean just stared at the floor. “Answer me. Did someone hurt you?” If someone had laid a hand on his brother like that there would be hell to pay…

Cas looked at Dean. “Show him. He’s going to find out anyway. There’s no way around this.”

Dean glared at Cas. “Fine. But not here. I’m not stripping for a room full of people.” Dean said sullenly even though the angel was the only other person there. Sam followed Dean as he headed to the bedroom Sam had woken up in. Dean then shut the door behind them despite Cas’s protests insisting that it might not be such a good idea.

He looked ashamed of whatever it was he was about to show Sam, and if it had anything to do with what had happened in his vision then he could understand why. He didn’t seem to be moving, he was just standing there at the end of the bed frozen in time. “Lift your shirt Dean.” Sam commanded, he needed to know if it was true, if what he had seen in his vision had already come to pass.

“Yes Sir.” Dean’s response seemed automatic, and there was no hint of sarcasm. What the hell had happened to him? He turned his back to Sam and lifted the hem of the fabric slowly to reveal welts and scars all over his back. Sam was going to be sick.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded to know. He was going to find them and kill them.

“It doesn’t matter… I’m fine.” 

Like hell it didn’t matter. Who was he protecting? “Dean. Tell me who did this to you!” Sam bellowed at him. Dean dropped the hem of his shirt and Sam could see him raise one arm to his face like he was wiping away tears. Then his hand was pulling down the waistband on the right side of his jeans. There on Dean’s ass cheek was a tiny black lined tattoo. Sam barely made it to the toilet before he started heaving. It couldn’t be. How could that even be possible? Maybe a demon had rode him out of hell somehow and attacked his brother? There were too many gaps and too many possibilities, nothing made sense.

Castiel came into the little bathroom. Sam looked up at him accusingly. “What happened to him? Why haven’t you healed him yet? He’s obviously in pain.” Sam sucked in a deep breath. “Did… I really do that to him? I can’t even remember… It couldn’t have been me, right? Tell me it wasn’t me!”

“I’m not really sure what happened Sam. I only just got here a couple of days ago. The two of you were asleep for most of that time. And well, Dean didn’t want me to heal him… he said he didn’t need my help. I… I brought you back your soul Sam. You’ll start to remember more soon. I am sorry.”

There was a lot to process. Brought back his soul? How could he exist without a soul? What did that even mean? Was he responsible for everything that this soulless version of him had done? He had no idea how this worked. Is that what had happened to Dean? “So what, I’ve just been walking around without a soul? For how long?”

Cas shook his head. “That I do not know. I hadn’t even known that Dean brought you back until almost two weeks ago." 

“So where was I? Where was my soul I mean?”

“In the cage with Lucifer and Michael. It took everything I had to get to you, and then to repair the damages they’d done… I managed to lock away your memories of hell, but you will eventually remember everything you did without your soul.”

“So that vision, that was a memory then…” Sam felt like he was going to be sick again, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. He dry heaved for a few more minutes while Cas watched from the doorway. He would have rather found out he had been possessed. How in the hell was he ever going to face his brother again? Dean should hate him, but he hadn’t even wanted to admit that it was Sam who had beaten him. And signed his work, _permanently_ … God what else had he done? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He hoisted himself up off the bathroom floor, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the room, Dean was out there. And whatever he had done to him… It wasn’t good. He didn’t want to know, but he _had_ to know. “Cas, I need to talk to my brother. Alone.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea Sam?”

“I have my soul back don’t I? I should be okay to talk to him right? Besides I don’t think he’s going to tell me what happened if you’re around, no offense Cas. It’s hard enough to get him to talk about anything.” Castiel nodded reluctantly. “Before you go though, I want you to heal him. Please.” Sam wasn’t sure he could look at him if he was still covered in those welts.

They came out of the bathroom together and found Dean folding laundry in the kitchen. He wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Dean. I know I can’t just undo whatever it is I’ve done, but I… I still can’t even believe I did that. I’m so sorry.” Sam said fumbling for words. 

“S’nothing. Don’t worry about it. M’fine.” Dean mumbled. 

“You’re not fine. Castiel is going to heal you. You’re going to let him.” Sam wasn’t going to give Dean the chance to say no.

Dean looked up at him with surprise which quickly turned to annoyance. “Fine. But if he puts me to sleep again I swear I’m going to wake up and stab his feathered ass.” 

Cas gently placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders and lit up the room briefly with his healing power. His blue eyes widened and he stared at Dean questioningly, like he was seeing for the first time the full extent of the physical damage inside him. Dean looked away uncomfortably and fidgeted under Cas’s touch. That was concerning, Sam started to wonder if there was more than just what he had seen. 

“Cas is going to leave for a bit now, and give us some time to uh... catch up, if that’s okay with you.” Sam told Dean. He nodded in response and looked sort of relieved, though Sam wasn’t really sure if he was reading him right. 

They sat down across from each other at the kitchen table, Dean didn’t seem very comfortable in his chair as he was sitting perched on the edge of it. Sam opened his mouth to ask Dean about it when another migraine gripped him. Images swirled before his eyes, of Dean shirtless and on his knees beneath the kitchen table, his arms bound behind his back in some sort of tightly laced leather contraption, and his big green eyes staring up at Sam with his mouth open, waiting to be fed. Sam was blushing again when it passed. What the hell was that about? Just what exactly had he done to his brother? Is that why he seemed so awkward sitting at the table with him? The worst part was the physical reaction Sam was having to seeing his brother bound and in such a submissive position. Like it wasn’t enough that he did all these awful things, he felt so twisted watching the ‘instant replay’ he didn’t know what to do about it. What kind of freak gets off on their brother’s suffering? He felt nauseous again.

“Dean, what… I don’t know where to start… Did I whip you?” Dean looked to the left and at the ground, saying nothing. “Answer me. Did I whip you?”

He nodded slowly and then seeing Sam’s anger rising he quickly added “Only when it was necessary though. When I broke the rules… you kept me in line.” Now Dean was the one blushing, and looking ashamed.

“Dean that’s… I’m so sorry. I don’t-“

“Stop apologizing okay? I know it wasn’t you. Not really. You’d never do those kinds of things to me.” Dean’s eyes were starting to get watery, “It’s not your fault anyway. It’s mine. I’m the one who cared more about bringing you back from the dead, than about bringing you back right. It’s my fault you spent so much time in hell. I should have tried harder to get your soul back. I’m sorry Sammy. It’s all my fault.” Sam wanted to fling the table out of the way and gather his broken brother into his arms and make the pain go away, but he was afraid. He had obviously been the one to break him in the first place, so maybe touching him was not such a good idea. He didn’t want to make things worse.

“Look Dean, it’s not your fault. I promise. I’m back now, and Cas says I won’t remember hell anyway. It’s okay. I’m more worried about you, and- and whatever it is I did to you.” Sam cleared his throat. “How long… how long have I been back? Er not souled me, but… before I got my soul back.”

Dean looked at the floor again, pursing his lips shut tightly. A single tear rolled down his right cheek leaving a shiny wet trail in its wake. Sam couldn’t help but think of how beautiful he looked, but that thought was tinged with the guilt of causing his pain. “A year.” He whispered at last. “A little over a year I think. It’s hard to say. I only left the cabin once. You- he… made sure I didn’t leave again. Broke my rib.” 

“Oh god…” Sam was horrified. He couldn’t find words. There probably weren’t any. Nothing he said was going to make this go away. “What… Why did I do that? I mean why were we living out here? Why didn’t I want you to leave?”

“You don’t remember yet do you?” Dean looked crushed. “I was… you wanted…” The tears were flowing in earnest now and he was wiping them away as quickly as he could, but he gave up trying to explain and just covered his face with his hands. Sam didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to push Dean any further, but he did want to know why they’d been out here so long, and why he hadn’t allowed him to leave. He figured he’d have to drop it and find out later when he started to remember more. 

They spent the rest of the day in awkward silence, trying to avoid upsetting each other, by carefully tiptoeing around all the issues that seemed to hang heavy in the air between them. Dean made them dinner, they ate silently and separately, Sam in the kitchen and Dean sat in the living room. When Dean finished eating he put his plate on the floor, curled up into the fetal position on the couch and fell asleep. Sam didn’t know what to do with himself once he was alone. He paced the kitchen anxiously for a little while and then decided to take a shower. 

As soon as his hand touched the cold tap he was having another flashback. Dean on his knees in the tub with his hands behind his back. Sam’s hand gripping his wet hair tightly. The water was cold, and Dean was shivering, his pale, freckled-dusted body coloured with bruises and abrasions. Sam could hear his own voice laugh and then he was forcing his brother's open mouth toward his erection. Sam’s eyes flung open and he choked as the heat of Dean’s soft lips surrounded his cock. He had never felt anything so amazing in his life. Sam could hardly catch his breath as the memory faded away. Tears began to stream down his face. _That_ was why. That was the reason Dean wasn’t allowed to leave. Sam was devastated. Before hell… He had always had a little crush on Dean, he thought it was something born out of brotherly admiration mixed with love and maybe the tiniest bit of inappropriate lust once in a while, but it was something he would never act on… But now he apparently had, in the worst way possible. There was no way Dean would ever forgive him for that. 

**Sam could never forgive himself for that.**


	3. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas tries to be helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to my internet being down and my carpal tunnel acting up horribly this took longer to get out and is short. Sorry everyone. The smutty stuff is coming though, I promise. I'll try to get Chapter 4 out a lot quicker. This one is kind of just an interlude to tide you over for a bit.

When Castiel returned he found Sam curled up in the bottom of the bathtub holding his head and crying. The memories were coming back to him in rapid succession, as soon as one would end another began. Cas dried him off and carried him to the big bed and left him there all folded up in a ball, clutching his legs and sobbing with his eyes closed. There wasn’t much else he could do for him unfortunately. Dean brought the comforter from the dryer and covered him with it. When Sam saw Dean he could hardly seem to contain the huge rush of emotion that overcame him. He was a train wreck. Sam spent three and a half days in bed, crying mostly as every ‘new’ memory hit him. He couldn’t even look at Dean without bursting into another round of racking sobs. Dean just avoided his room as much as possible to make it easier on him. Cas brought him food and encouraged him to eat, but he barely touched it. Whatever he had done to Dean, it was weighing on him heavily. 

Cas still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, he had felt the injuries Dean had sustained over the past year when he healed him, but no one would fill him in on any of the details. Dean didn’t want to talk about it, all he did was mope around the cabin and ignore Castiel as much as possible. Cas tried to convince Dean to go for a drive or go hunt something, but he refused to leave the cabin as long as Sam was isolating himself in the bedroom. Ever the valiant protector, Dean needed to be reassured that Sam would be okay before he could think about himself again. Cas admired Dean, he wished he would let him in, let himself be helped. Castiel wanted nothing more than to help, but clearly Dean was not going to forgive him for not being there in his time of need. Cas had let him down.

Cas did everything he could think of to make Dean happy. He brought him pies of all various kinds, and cheeseburgers and tacos and all kinds of fat-filled junk foods. Dean would just stare listlessly at Castiel’s offerings, sometimes he’d take the time to push the food around his plate and pretend he was interested before announcing that he simply wasn’t all that hungry. Cas tried playing the loud rock and roll music he knew Dean had always been so fond of, but that didn’t work either, Dean would just walk past the radio and turn it off without a word. Cas even brought him one of those magazines with the large breasted females. Dean thanked him and then Cas later found it in the trashcan. He had run out of ideas. It seemed like there was nothing that could make him stop moping. 

When Cas went in to bring Sam his lunch on the fourth day, he asked to see Dean. Cas wasn’t so sure, but Sam seemed much more lucid and he insisted that he had to talk to him. So Cas brought Dean in and then he left the room and sat outside the door in case either of them needed him. He could hear Sam’s voice faintly through the door.

“I remember everything I did to you now… I remember all of it. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me…I’ll never forgive myself… but for what it’s worth I promise I’ll never do anything like that to you again.” Dean came out of the room covering his face, but Cas could see him wiping away his tears. Then Dean started to pack up all of their stuff without saying a word. He grabbed his old duffel bag and started tossing in his clothing from the closet and a few things from the kitchen. Then he stood there looking around the room as though he was saying goodbye to the place. 

“What’s going on Dean?” Castiel asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

“It’s time we hit the road. Get back to hunting.” Dean responded gruffly. Any signs that he had ever cried in his life were completely gone. His mask of bravado was back in place as though he had never taken it off at all.


	4. Home Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the road again, but the boys aren't quite back to normal...

Sam and Dean had been back on the road for a month already and Dean had been bitchy and mostly drunk the entire time. The two of them hardly spoke at all and when they did it wasn’t pleasant. Sam couldn’t forgive himself, and he seemed that convinced Dean hadn’t either, and never would for that matter so everything he did was to tiptoe around his brother. He went out of his way to agree to everything Dean said, never arguing or taking the lead on anything. Dean couldn’t stand it. It threw him off balance and made him nervous and frustrated. He had had an entire year to become used to being dragged around by a leash and now his brother had pulled back completely and would barely even talk to him except to politely ask something about a case once in a while. Dean understood why. He clearly never wanted Dean that way to begin with, and he regretted everything he had done while he was soulless, of course. It made perfect sense, but it didn’t make anything easier.

Dean dreamt about Sam dominating him every single night. Every time he got in the shower all he could think about was sucking off his brother, Sam’s hand in his hair holding him still while he fucked his throat. Every time Sam asked him to do something he found himself saying ‘Yes Sir’, or at least he did for the first week until Sam stopped asking him to do things and just avoided talking to him at all. He knew why it upset Sam, he got it, but he was programmed to respond that way. It wasn’t something he could easily break, though he tried his hardest. He didn’t want to cause Sam any more anguish than he already had. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that he did all those things, so he shouldn’t have to suffer through Dean’s issues.

Sam shook him awake one night. “You were… begging in your sleep again…” He said softly. “Do you really want me to… do those things?” He whispered looking ashamed, “Or…” He left the rest unsaid, they both knew Sam had forced Dean to beg when he was soulless. He wanted to tell the truth, that it wasn’t a nightmare at all, he wanted Sam in all the wrong ways. But he couldn’t do that to Sammy. Not after everything Sam had been through. He would probably try to do it just to make Dean feel better, and in the process he’d kill himself with the weight of the guilt of everything he’d done. 

“No… f’course not.” He mumbled sleepily. “M’sorry Sam. Go back to sleep.”

In the morning Dean was even more ornery than usual. He started off with a cup of Irish coffee, heavy on the ‘Irish’ part and kept it going with the flask in his pocket. Sam was looking for a new case for them when Bobby called. They’d briefly touched base with Bobby almost a month ago, giving him a watered down version of what had happened in the past year. Neither of them had wanted to go down there and see him just yet, not until they had sorted out their issues with each other, but that might take forever. Sam answered the phone and relayed the message to Dean after the call. Apparently he had come across a package addressed to their father that had been bouncing around from post office to post office for decades. He figured the boys ought to have it, whatever it was.

They took the time to pack up all their crap in the motel and then they hit the road. Dean was happy to have his baby back if nothing else. They drove for hours in awkward silence, Sam staring out the passenger window and Dean keeping his eyes glued to the road. He wasn’t drunk by any means, or he wouldn’t have decided to drive. He’d needed more and more alcohol lately to numb the pain, he wasn’t sure it was even working at all anyway since he couldn’t stop dreaming about Sam, fantasizing about Sam. Feeling rejected by Sam… It all just blurred together when he’d had enough to drink. Right now though he was annoyingly sober, and the drive to Bobby’s was painfully long. 

When they got there Bobby couldn’t stop grinning and hugging the two ‘idjits’. It was obvious he could tell something was up between the two of them though. He seated them at the table and poured them each a drink before he produced the package. It wasn’t very big, but it looked rather old. There was no return address on the brown envelope. Sam opened it up and a small box covered in a strange symbol fell out, along with a hand written letter. 

_Dear John,_

_If you have this in your possession, it means I’ve died. I’m so sorry I was never there to see you grow up. You must think me a horrible father. The truth is, I was trying to protect you. For whatever that may be worth. I hope someone has stepped in in my absence and raised you properly as a Man of Letters. You are a legacy, like myself and my father before me, and his before him. I’m hoping though that you already know all of this. Which brings me to the reason I wrote you this letter. I was entrusted with this key and its safekeeping, and if I am dead then this key now belongs to you. This box is bound with blood magic, I couldn’t take the chance of it falling into the wrong hands. It will only open with the blood of a Winchester. Don’t let it out of your sight John, protect it with your life. This is the key to all the world’s secrets._

_Your father,  
Henry Winchester_

On the back of the letter was a scrawled set of coordinates, presumably to whatever the key opened. They wanted to set out right away and find whatever this secret treasure was with all the world’s mysteries inside and figure out what the hell a Man of Letters was, but Bobby insisted that they stay at least one night and catch him up a bit about what was going on. Neither one of them had much to say to Bobby. They stuck to the script they’d agreed on, that Dean brought Sam back from the dead, but screwed it up and Sam wandered the earth as a soulless douche for a while until Cas returned his soul. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. That was really all Bobby needed to know anyways. The details were a little too personal for the two of them to share. Even Cas still didn’t know everything that had happened back in the cabin.

When they finally set out for the coordinates in the morning Dean felt a bit less gloomy. They had some sort of task to do at least, he could focus on that and try to forget that Sam was there next to him, being overly polite and apologetic every time he opened his mouth. The place was in Kansas, and it was down some desolate road in the middle of nowhere. They pulled up in front of a giant old power station with a big looming metal door built into the side of a hill underneath the giant building. They pulled out the box and Sam cut the palm of his hand and let the blood drip onto it. The runes craved into the box began to glow and it slid open easily. Inside was a small iron key that fit the lock on the door.

What was on the other side of that door was unimaginable. They had to turn on their flashlights to see at first, until Dean found a panel with a bunch of switches that turned on all the lights. They were at the top of a spiral staircase that led down into a command station from the 1950’s. Further beyond that was a huge library with all kinds of books. They explored the bunker for hours and discovered that it had working bathrooms complete with showers, a giant kitchen, and living quarters. The place had been abandoned for decades and now it was theirs. 

Dean wasted no time claiming his room and moving his stuff in. He had never had a ‘real’ home or a room of his own, unless you counted the cabin in the woods. Which he was loathe to admit that he sort of did sometimes… He was actually kind of happy for the first time in a while. He did as much as he could to make Sam feel at home. He helped him move in all of his stuff, and encouraged him to check out all the dusty boring old books in the library, hoping that if Sam was happy here, maybe he wouldn’t leave him. The two of them settled into a new routine. They still had cases all over the country, but they’d always come back home to the bunker in between cases. When they were home Dean did the cooking and the cleaning, while Sam researched and read mountains of books and old case files. The Men of Letters had kept impeccable records about everything Supernatural and Sam studied them reverently. They were settling in nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to use a plot device to get them into the bunker, because I just love that place so much. The smut starts back up again in the next chapter. Finally. ;) You've all been so patient.


	5. Pain In The Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean pushes all of Sam's buttons.

Sam had mostly settled in to the bunker and was enjoying spending his free time scouring the books and records for information, but Dean was driving him crazy. Yeah, he had been okay for the first few weeks in the bunker, maybe even happy, but that had quickly worn off and now he was being a menace. He argued about absolutely everything, he complained constantly and he seemed to be trying his hardest to piss Sam off. And it was taking all of his self-control not to react and do something they would both regret. Sam was still plagued by random snippets from his memories, taunting him, reminding him of what he had done to Dean, but worse than that, what he still wanted to do to him… 

When Dean ‘accidentally’ spilled scotch on the book Sam was reading he had had enough. He dried the book off the best he could and grabbed his jacket.

“Where ya goin’ Sammy?” Dean asked with a shit-eating grin.

“ **Out.** ” Was all he could manage as a response.

He met up with Cas at a diner close by. He needed someone to talk to and he didn’t really have anyone else that could make it to Kansas on short notice. “I can’t take it anymore Cas, he’s being absolutely obnoxious. I know he needs to work through his ‘inner demons’ so to speak… and all the awful things I did… but I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m going to snap soon.” Sam took a sip of his water. “You’ve seen the way he’s been acting… Do you think this is going to end any time soon? How much more of this do I have to put up with?”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you need to take control of the situation. Whatever it was you did in that cabin you- well _soulless you_ , gave him a lot of structure and clear guidelines to follow, and now that he is without them… Well he doesn’t know what to do. He’s acting out trying to get you to punish him.”

“What?” Sam wasn’t entirely certain, but he thought Cas might have lost his mind. “That’s definitely not what he wants.... I asked him once…”

“He may not want it, but it’s what he _needs_. Just look at his behaviour, he is pushing you and pushing you trying to see how far he can go before you snap and do something about it. I think you need to do something now before he gets completely out of control.”

“Cas you don’t understand the things I did to him-“

“I’m not suggesting you break any bones. I just think if you lay down some rules maybe, and some consequences… Or at the very least, stop letting him walk all over you. You’re not doing him or yourself any favours by giving in to everything he wants.” Cas was right about at least one thing, Sam had to do something **now** before Dean pushed too far and he lost it. Sam thanked Cas for the chat and paid the bill before he left. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about Dean but he’d figure it out, hopefully soon. 

Sam spent the next few days trying to come up with a non-confrontational way to confront his brother, but his antics were getting more and more difficult to ignore. He’d sit there staring at Sam, chewing on the end of a pen in the most distracting way while Sam was trying to read, and then get up and stretch and ‘accidentally’ smack Sam in the back of the head. Then there was the non-stop off-key singing that he couldn’t seem to escape from. Dean had also taken to following him around the bunker constantly and every time he sat down Dean would stare over his shoulder and make comments about what he was reading. 

On Wednesday morning Sam woke up to Dean blasting music on his iPod right next to Sam’s head. He almost shot him. He looked up to find Dean standing over by the shelf in his bedroom staring at the items that were carefully arranged there, he grinned at Sam and started knocking things off of it. One by one. Sam had finally reached his breaking point.

“Hands off my stuff Dean.” He said evenly as he climbed out of bed and crossed the room to his brother.

“Or what? Whatcha going to do about it Sammy?” Dean taunted. He reached up to push something else off the shelf and Sam caught his wrist. Sam lived for that moment when Dean’s eyes went wide. He’d caught Dean by surprise, and he’d had about enough. He twisted Dean’s arm up behind his back and shoved him down onto the bed. “What do you think you’re doing Sammy?” Sam detected a note of fear hidden beneath the sassy remark. 

“Giving you what you obviously need. A good punishment.” He stated as he pinned him down with one arm and reached for the handcuffs in his nightstand with the other. Dean struggled against Sam and tried to twist his way out of Sam’s grip. He pushed down harder and grabbed his other wrist bringing it up to the middle of his back and snapped the cuffs on. He couldn’t deny the rush he was getting from this, seeing Dean fighting beneath him, growling and cursing. He sat down on his bed and pulled Dean over his lap. With one hand he pulled down the waistband of his pants, baring his perfect ass. He placed the other hand on the small of his back to keep him in place. 

Then he brought his hand down on Dean’s ass. “What the fuck Sam?!” his brother cried out. He brought it down again. Harder, this time. And again, and again, increasing the speed each time. Dean squirmed on his lap and hurled angry curses at him. Sam could feel Dean’s erection pressing against his leg. He knew he should have stopped, but he didn’t. He couldn’t stop until Dean’s ass was a delicious shade of red and Dean was crying and begging. Part of Sam was enjoying this a little too much while the other part of him worried he might have gone too far. 

“Are you done pissing me off Dean?” Sam asked.

“Yes Sir.” He said meekly. “Will you fuck me now?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. All of the anger and frustration that had been building for weeks drained away completely. “Is… Is that what you want?” He let Dean shift around until he could look him in the eye. Dean nodded but then shrugged and looked ashamed of himself, like he really didn’t want to admit it. Sam had an idea. He wanted to do this, but he couldn’t unless he knew Dean was okay with it. He leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I want this, but only if you want it too. I know I didn’t give you a choice in being punished, but with this… I’m giving you the safe-word ‘red’ and you have to promise me you’ll use it if you need to stop. Promise me Dean.”

“I promise. I’ll use the safe-word if I need to stop.” He whispered back keeping eye contact with Sam. Then he felt Dean relax all of his muscles like all the tension had just drained right out of his body. It was almost as though the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders anymore, at least for now.

Sam hauled him by the arms up to the pillow and laid him there face down. He twisted and rolled over onto his back as soon as Sam let go. If this was how he wanted to play the game Sam was fine with that. He shoved him back onto his stomach and held him there as he pulled the worn denim jeans off his hot reddened ass with one hand. “Lift your ass and spread your legs.” He ordered. 

“No.” Dean stated defiantly. 

“Fine.” Sam responded as he draped himself over top of his brother, holding him down with the weight of his body. He reached up to the nightstand for the key to the cuffs. He unlocked one of Dean’s wrists and stretched his arms up to the headboard and re-locked him in place. Dean struggled beneath him, pulling on the cuffs. Sam slapped his sore ass as he got up, making him yelp. The sound brought another rush of blood to his already hard dick. He grabbed the lube from his drawer and coated his fingers while he shoved Dean’s legs apart. Sam could hardly keep himself from fucking him senseless, he had wanted this so bad for so long, but he knew he had to go slow and stretch him first. He didn't want to be rough and careless like he had been while he was soulless. He slid his middle finger inside, he couldn’t believe how hot and tight it felt. Dean moaned and pushed back against him like he couldn’t get enough. He sought out the little nub inside and pressed against it, making Dean gasp and whimper. He added another finger and continued pressing and rubbing. Dean had his face buried in the pillow, panting and repeating ‘Sammy’ over and over like his brain had short circuited and he couldn’t remember any other words. Sam scissored his fingers inside, unable to wait any longer. He slid his fingers out slowly and slathered on the lube, circling Dean’s tight hole, teasing him.

“Fuck me already. Please… Sir.” The desperate need caused Dean’s voice to crack. Sam lost it. He thrust into him, abandoning any ideas of going slow and being gentle. Any memories he had regained of his soulless-self fucking his brother were nothing compared to the actual firsthand experience. Sam was ready to blow his load within seconds, every inch of his cock was being squeezed tight as he rocked in and out. He grabbed Dean roughly by the hips and held on for dear life while he fucked him deep and hard. He was surprised by how loud Dean was, moaning and babbling incoherently, occasionally squirming and trying to pull away from Sam like he was going too deep. He re-positioned himself so he could slam into his prostate and then reached around to jerk his brother off. 

“ _Fuck!_ Sam what’re you doing?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Helping you.” He responded, sliding his hand up the length of his shaft. 

“You’re gunna make me cum.” Dean whimpered. Sam knew he’d never bothered to take care of Dean’s needs while they were in the cabin. 

“Good.” He said as he thrust in hard. He could feel Dean shudder inside, clamping down on his cock as he spurted onto the bedspread. Sam couldn’t keep it together any longer and he came inside him with a groan. He pulled out slowly and wiped them both up carefully before he unlocked the cuffs. Dean stared at him with glassy green eyes, the side of his face resting on the pillow. Sam caressed his cheek before leaning down and kissing those perfect lips for the first time. Dean’s eyes shot open wide and he seemed to be searching Sam’s soul for something. Dean’s bottom lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. Sam wiped them away as they tumbled down toward the pillowcase. **Fuck**. What had he done?


	6. Take Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally figures out what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to everyone who leaves me such lovely comments. I treasure every one of them. You all keep me writing. So thank you so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;)

“Oh god Dean, I’m so sorry… Are you okay?” Sam seemed to be panicking and regretting everything.

“No, no, I’m okay! Don’t freak out. I just…” He couldn’t find the words to finish the rest of that sentence. Sam had never kissed him before and he had no idea how much he had needed this, all of it. He tried to start again “I thought you didn’t want to be around me anymore, with your soul back. I thought… That you were just going to leave.”

“What? Of course I want to be around you… I was pretty sure you hated my guts for all the horrible things I did.” Sam looked like he was having a hard time finding the words. 

“Yeah I won’t lie you were kind of a dick.” Dean smiled at him. “But it wasn’t _that_ bad… You know minus the cutting… and the broken bones…”

“Not really making me feel any better.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled with a little grin. “So… you think you might stick around then?”

“Yeah. I mean I don’t have any plans to leave, unless you want me to go.” Sam studied him pensively for a moment and Dean watched his eyes fill with concern and uncertainty. “But, where do we go from here? The things I did to you… I still… I still have nightmares about them. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is how I can’t look at you without thinking of the things I _want_ to do you. I’ve tried so hard to tiptoe around you and keep myself from saying or doing anything that might trigger you and you’ve been driving me absolutely fucking crazy, like you _want_ me to lose it.”

“Maybe I do…” Dean muttered quietly. 

“What?” Sam’s voice suddenly had an edge to it. 

Dean shrugged. “Maybe I just…” He trailed off, unwilling to say the words out loud. He changed gears instead. “Look I’m fucking tired of you treating me like some fragile little flower. And yeah I admit that I don’t exactly want any more cracked ribs, but I’m not afraid of you Sam. You’re not going to break me or whatever it is you seem to be so scared of. You weren’t exactly yourself when you did all that stuff. But you’re **you** now, and I don’t want to be treated like I’m going to have some sort of mental breakdown at any moment, because of what happened.” Dean _was_ afraid of one thing though, he was afraid of Sam just taking off and never coming back. 

Sam was quiet for a while, he seemed to be processing it all. “So you’ve been annoying the hell out of me on purpose? To see if I’d react?” His voice was even but his eyes were narrowed. 

“Maybe?” It came out as more of a squeak than he’d intended. 

“You’ve been intentionally pressing all my buttons?" He sighed. "I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this... So, is that why were you deep throating that pen all day yesterday?” 

“I was not.” He made his best effort at indignation. 

“You really were. I’m surprised it didn’t explode in your mouth.” 

Dean almost choked on his own spit. “I-” 

“And all the annoying singing, and following me around, and spilling liquor on my books and everything else?” Sam was starting to raise his voice. Dean couldn’t help the tingling sensation that spread throughout his body as Sam’s gaze hardened. “Well then. I am done putting up with your obnoxious behaviour. I guess Cas was right, I need to keep you in line.” Sam’s authoritative voice went straight to his groin. 

“Cas? Cas told you to give me a _spanking_?” His face reddened, he could feel it. 

“Not exactly.” Sam looked unamused. “I want to make something clear right now. If you continue to press my buttons there will be consequences.” Dean could feel goosebumps rising all over his flesh as a chill traveled down his spine. He was torn between making some smart-ass remark and keeping his mouth shut and nodding. Sam took the burden of that decision away from him by climbing on top of him and pinning his arms down. He opened his mouth to say something and was met with Sam’s lips against his, he couldn’t do anything but moan. Sam sucked on his bottom lip and then bit down hard. He wanted more, the desire he felt burning inside him was insatiable. He kissed back, pushing against Sam who held him fast in place. When Sam pulled away Dean was breathless and dazed. 

“Do you understand?” Sam asked. 

Dean just stared at him, unable to remember whatever it was he was supposed to be understanding. “If I say yes can we keep doing… whatever this is?” 

“Dean. I’m serious. I won’t hesitate to punish you next time you decide to start pissing me off.” Sam’s expression was soft and kind, it made a strange juxtaposition to his words. If there was a difference between a promise and a threat, it was in the way Sam said it. Dean nodded with wide eyes, and attempted to lean forward to kiss Sam again. The bastard pulled away and sat up on the bed. Tease. “We should go make breakfast and look for a case.” Sam announced as he stood up and crossed the room. Dean pouted and closed his eyes. He did not want to get up at all, but Sam threatened to throw him off his bed if he didn’t move his ass. 

He headed to the shower first and cranked it to cold, but even as it soothed his burning ass it reminded him of sucking Sam off back in the cabin… So it wasn’t exactly as helpful as he’d hoped. He washed quickly and got himself dressed without much thought, he paused though after pulling on his t-shirt and opened his bottom drawer. He grabbed the leather cuffs he’d stashed in there under a sweater and contemplated them for a minute before wrapping them around his wrists. He didn’t have the little padlocks to lock them on, but there was a leather strap that went through a metal loop and held them closed well enough. The familiar smooth leather snug against his skin was a sensation he didn’t know he’d been missing until now. 

Sam had a bunch of ingredients on the counter when Dean walked into the kitchen. “Whatcha makin’ Sammy?” He surveyed the items in front of his brother for oats and was reassured when he found none. 

“Pancakes.” Sam said glancing up briefly from his recipe book. He did a double take and whipped his head up a second time. “You kept those?” he asked looking astonished. Dean suddenly felt nervous for some reason. 

“Yeah…” Dean shrugged, “It’s no big deal-” 

Sam had already closed the space between them before he managed to get out another word. In an instant he was bent over the cold metal island with his hands behind his back. Sam’s lips were on his neck, kissing gently at first, but that quickly turned to sucking and biting. He couldn’t contain the moan rising up from his chest as his eyes rolled back in his head. Sam’s lips on his skin just felt so intimate and _hot_. He was panting when Sam stepped back and released his arms. 

“I want you to make breakfast.” Sam stated. “I have things to take care of. I want food on the table by the time I get back.” 

Dean still hadn’t caught his breath by the time Sam had left the room, but he figured he had better do as he was told or face the consequences. He whipped up the pancakes quickly and poured the batter onto the griddle, absentmindedly rubbing his neck the whole time. He managed to have the food on the table with syrup and butter just in time. Sam returned with a ‘cat who swallowed the canary’ look on his face, that was really creeping Dean out. He continued to smile at him as they ate breakfast, finally it got to the point where Dean was so self-conscious that he couldn’t even make eye contact. 

“What?! What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” He finally cracked as he finished eating.

“Clear the table and meet me in my room. You have 5 minutes.” Sam left no space for argument as he got up and left without another word. 

Dean wondered what would happen if he took more than 5 minutes, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out just yet. He took one step into Sam’s room and found himself shoved face first onto his brother’s bed. Sam wasted no time securing his cuffs to the bedposts on either side of the headboard. He protested and tugged at his bonds as though he wasn’t loving every second of it. His pants were ripped off him, fingernails digging into the sides of his legs all the way down, leaving him in just his boxers. Then Sam forced his way between Dean’s legs and spread him wide. He could feel something encircling each leg just above the knee followed by the click of the locks. He tried helplessly to close his legs. Fuck. 

“What the hell Sam!? You went through my stuff!” 

“And look what I found. Remember how you didn’t want to spread your legs for me this morning? Well now you can’t close them. Seems like a fitting punishment to me.” Sam’s hand slid up the leg of his boxers and snaked around his already hard cock. Dean bit his bottom lip as he focused on Sam’s touch, teasing him, bringing him right to the edge and then stopping. Sam pulled his hand away and slapped Dean on the ass, he yelped in surprise and tried to grind his hips into the bed, desperate for friction. 

“Please Sammy. I’m sorry I disobeyed you earlier. Pleeeeease let me cum.” He begged pathetically. Sam just laughed that evil laugh as he sat down on a chair near the bed and opened his laptop. 

“Nah. I’m going to look for a case. You just lie there and look pretty while you think about why you’re being punished.” 

Dean growled in frustration. Sam was definitely more evil _with_ his soul than without it. 


	7. Reclaiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reclaims what's his.

Sam wasn’t sure what just happened. He had expected it to be difficult to dominate his brother after everything that he had done to him over the past year, but the moment he saw Dean wearing those cuffs, _his cuffs_ , it was like a switch inside him flipped on. Dean belonged to him, they both wanted this and that was all that mattered. 

Sam slapped Dean’s ass and reached his hand up inside his boxers again, what he really wanted was to fuck him again, but he knew that this had to be about what Dean needed. He wrapped his hand around his already dripping cock and jerked him off slowly. When he was finished Dean seemed to have melted into the bed, he barely made a sound as Sam unlocked everything. He brought Dean a glass of cold water and insisted he drink it and then wrapped him in a clean, warm blanket. Dean looked dazed and fucked out, it was possibly the most adorable thing Sam had ever seen.

Sam sat down on the bed next to him and stroked his hair. He was lucky his brother didn’t have more energy or he probably would have complained about Sam treating him like a girl, instead he just closed his eyes and sighed. Sam pulled the laptop off the nightstand and started actually searching for a case while he waited for Dean to decide to get up. He found something intriguing in Phoenix, Arizona. Bodies were showing up mutilated and drained of their blood. He’d need more detail to know whether it was vamps or werewolves but either way it was definitely their kind of deal. It would take them at least two and a half days to get to Arizona so Sam got up and started packing. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to being trapped in the car again and sleeping in some seedy motel, but it was part of the job. 

As he was pulling a shirt out of his dresser he noticed something shiny and silver in the bottom of the drawer, he had completely forgotten about the two small objects that had been buried under his clothes all this time. He picked one up, feeling its weight in his hand. The decision only took a split second as he grabbed the other one and walked over to his brother. He lifted one cuffed wrist and slipped the little padlock into the metal loop closing it with a little click. Dean’s eyes confronted him, wide with fear or excitement, Sam wasn’t quite sure which.

“What are you doing Sam?”

“Reclaiming what’s mine.” He stated as he leaned in for a kiss and grabbed the other hand. 

“but you can’t-” his lips still pressed against Sam’s “I don’t wan-” _Click_. Dean swallowed hard and Sam pulled away from the kiss. “you can’t make me wear these in public!” he protested.

“I don’t see you having a say in the matter. Don’t worry, I’ll let you borrow my hoodie, no one will even see them. Unless I want them to…” Sam trailed off, staring wantonly at his slave. 

Dean pouted like a small child while he packed his stuff, but Sam could tell he was secretly enjoying it. 

They drove for 8 hours before they had to stop for the night in a motel in New Mexico. The two of them had been oddly quiet the entire time in the car, but not uncomfortably so. Every once in a while Sam would catch Dean glancing down at his wrist and biting his lip, the corners of which turned slightly upward in a shy smile. It seemed like it had been forever since he had seen his brother this sober, and not pissed off about anything. Sam was enjoying it greatly.

They got into the motel room at sunset, and Sam parked his laptop on the tiny table so he could look into the case before going to bed. Dean sat down across from him, twirling a ball point pen between his fingers. Sam glanced up at him briefly breaking eye contact with his screen, and realized the end of the pen had made its way into Dean’s mouth. He was sitting there, staring at Sam and chewing on the end of the pen. Sam fidgeted in his seat and went back to typing, trying not to look at Dean. That soon proved to be impossible though as Dean started sucking on the end of the pen, regarding Sam with the most innocent look. Sam ripped the pen from his mouth and threw it across the room, sliding his middle finger in in its place. Dean’s mouth was hot and wet and he sucked Sam’s digits in like he was desperate to taste every inch.

“That’s it. Get down on your knees now.” Sam removed his finger and slammed the laptop shut.

“And if I don’t?” Dean challenged.

“Then you do it anyway, but with more bruises.”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes. Fear? Exhilaration? Defiance? “No.” Dean said, planting himself in the chair. “I won’t do it.”

Sam could feel the heat rising inside him, there was something thrilling about his refusal. He was forcing Sam to take what he wanted. He grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him to the ground. He didn’t go down easy, kicking Sam in the leg on the way. Sam used the weight of his body to wrestle him to the ground and quickly clipped his cuffs together behind his back. He wished he had a good length of rope right about now, but he’d make do until they could get to a toy store. Dean grunted beneath him, struggling to throw Sam’s weight off of him. 

“You can submit now, or I can spank your ass again. I’m fairly certain you’re still sore from your last punishment so you might want to choose wisely.” Sam whispered in his ear. Dean glared at him in response. “Is that your final answer?” Sam asked.

“Wait! …I’ll be good…” He mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Sam asked mockingly, cupping one hand around his ear.

“I said I’ll be good. Sir.” He said through clenched teeth.

Sam stood up and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, clutching a fistful of it and bringing him up onto his knees. He used his other hand to pull down the waistline of his pants. Dean stared up at him with the most devilish look in his eyes as his tongue darted out between his lips and licked the entire length of his shaft. The touch sent shivers tingling down his spine and he had to stop himself from shoving it down his throat immediately. It took all of his self-control but he let Dean take his time and tease him, swirling his tongue around the head. When he finally opened wide and sucked Sam into his mouth he almost screamed. His lips were so perfect. Sam couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he was going to cum. He face-fucked his brother until he exploded down his throat. 

“You are fucking amazing.” he panted as he slid down onto his knees in front of Dean. He just smiled at him in response and Sam drew him in for a kiss. He found he couldn’t stop kissing him, without thinking he lifted him up off the floor and threw him onto the bed like a ragdoll, arms still bound behind his back. As he was kissing and biting his hands worked quickly to pull down Dean’s pants and free his hard cock. He wrapped one hand around it and broke off the kiss. It was time he repaid his brother.

“Whoa! What are you doing Sam?” He could hear utter shock in Dean’s voice as he clamped his lips around his erection. He just looked up at Dean and attempted a smirk. He was too busy to answer. It took no time at all to make him cum. Sam wasn’t surprised that Dean was such an easy lay. When he finished they made out some more and curled up in the bed together. “Are you going to let me go?” Dean asked at last, gesturing in a limited way with his shoulders.

“No.” Sam said resolutely. “ _Not ever._ ” And they drifted off to sleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took me forever and a day. I blame real life. It's such a drag. ;) I hope you like this one. Let me know in the comments!


	8. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is not impressed with Sam's choice of clothing for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make... I've been cheating on you dear readers. I've been working on another project behind your backs. I'm so sorry. I've added a picture though so you can see what's been taking up so much of my free time.

_And now.. onto Chapter 8_

 

“Absolutely fucking not. No way Sam.” Dean protested as he opened the shopping bag. “I am not wearing this.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

“I’m going to look ridiculous.” He pouted.

“It’s a Goth bar Dean! Everyone looks ridiculous!” Sam sighed “We’re not going to catch this vamp if we can’t get these kids to talk to us. Now you’re going to wear what I brought you and you’re not going to argue anymore.” 

Dean growled, this was stupid. “What the hell are these Sam?” he asked pulling out a pair of black pants covered in straps and buckles.

“Bondage pants.”

“What?! You can’t be serious. You might as well just have me in my cuffs and collar.” He grumbled.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Sam mused.

Wait, what?! Shit. “Hold up there Sammy. I was joking.” There was no way he wanted to walk into that Goth bar in his slave gear.

“Well I think wearing your collar would be a good idea. Let everyone know that you already have an owner.” Sam winked as he rummaged through his duffel bag.

Dean was squirming now, “I’m not doing that, you can’t make me.” He stuck out his bottom lip for maximum effect. It was all an act, but it felt necessary to him. He’d discovered that he needed Sam to force him into doing a lot of things, and he was oddly okay with that.

“Do you really want to test my patience?” Sam was already behind him placing the collar around his neck. He couldn’t help but feel his knees go weak as the lock clicked shut. All the memories flooded back to him and he had to resist the urge to sink to the floor at Sam’s feet. It felt like his skin was on fire, he was definitely blushing furiously. He wanted to make some smart-ass remark but he was certain that if he opened his mouth the wrong words would come out. “Perfect.” Sam stated. “Now go change.” It was an order and Dean suddenly felt obedient. He took the bag and hid in the motel bathroom, if he had to do this he was doing this without Sam watching and smirking at him.

He put on the pants first, they had weight to them with all the various chains and metal rings. He found himself curious as to whether they were as functional as they looked. No doubt Sam would answer his question later. He pulled the t-shirt out of the bag and yelled through the door. “SERIOUSLY SAM?” He came out of the bathroom half naked to confront Sam, clutching the stupid shirt. “Panic at the fucking Disco Sam? I am out. I am so out. You can work this case on your own. Call me when you find the vampires and I’ll gank them, but I am NOT wearing this!”

“You’re so cute when you’re indignant. Now put on your shirt so I can do your make-up.”

Dean’s eyes shot open as wide as possible. “No. No no no no not happening. Sam no.” Just when he thought there was nothing more humiliating. There was no way he was wearing make-up. Especially not in public where people could see him. 

“Okay, I can see we need to do this the hard way.” Sam advanced toward him and he panicked and backed up into the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it before Sam could get to him. Shit. Now what? He couldn’t hide in there all night could he? Sam would pick the lock. He briefly contemplated using the safe word, but he really didn’t want to. He did the only thing he could do, he put on the stupid tight-fitting emo shirt and opened the bathroom door. He didn’t even put up a fight when Sam dragged him over to the bed and pushed him face down over his lap. The spanking hurt, mainly because his ass was still sore from yesterday. When Sam finished he helped Dean sit up and looked into his eyes and kissed him. Sam’s big arms were wrapped around him, holding him tight and he couldn’t hold back the tears for some stupid reason. He cried silently as Sam kissed him, and not because his ass hurt. Sam wouldn’t let him get up off the bed until the tears had stopped and he’d had some water. 

“Are you feeling better?” Sam asked.

He nodded slowly. “I still don’t want to wear make-up…” He mumbled petulantly. 

“Look Dean, I’ll be wearing make-up too. You may not like it but you’ll survive one night I promise. Come into the bathroom with me, there’s not enough light in here.”

Sam lifted him onto the bathroom counter and he grumbled under his breath the entire time. It felt like Sam was going to jab him in the eye with the eyeliner pencil, and he could barely keep his eyes open when he came at him with the mascara brush. Sam just stood there staring at him when he finished. “Wow.” He whispered at last. 

“What is it? Do I look ridiculous? Ugh, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Can we just go already?”

“You are gorgeous.” Sam turned him around to face the mirror behind him. He looked like some emo glam-rock kid. And as much as he hated to admit it Sam wasn’t far off, he looked pretty. 

“I look like a slutty gay boy.” He pouted. “Like the kind of kid you’d meet in the bathroom at some rave-” He couldn’t finish his sentence because Sam’s lips were pressed against his, and his hand was down his pants, fondling parts that were already wide awake and ready to go. He kissed back with abandon, he looked slutty as fuck and he was starting to feel it too. He wanted to please Sam more than anything. He couldn’t focus with Sam’s long fingers wrapped around his shaft, he rocked his hips on the bathroom counter trying to get more friction, and then suddenly Sam stopped and it was like all the light was sucked out of the room. Whhhhhhhhhy. “Mmmm. No Sammy. More. Need more. Please.”

Sam looked like he didn’t want to stop either. “We’ll have time for more of that later, but right now we have a job to do, and I still need to get ready.” Sam tugged on the O ring attached to his collar. He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the padlocks from the cuffs. Dean watched as Sam put them in his duffel bag and rubbed his wrists which felt alarmingly naked now. He didn’t want to work this job at all anymore, he wanted to stay in the motel room with Sam. It wasn’t fair. He looked in the mirror one more time at his pouty lips and his sparkling green eyes made more prominent by way too much black eyeliner. His lashes were so long they should be illegal and it was a good thing he wasn’t wearing any lipstick because it would have been smeared across his face already. Sam returned and spiked up Dean’s hair with some sort of coloured hair product. Great now he looked like a fucking scene kid.

When Sam was ready they headed to the club. Dean felt ridiculously self-conscious in the din of noise and Goth kids. It seemed like everyone was staring at him, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. He and Sam split up to talk to as many people as possible to try and discover how the vamps were choosing their victims. Dean peered around the crowd and was reassured somewhat to see that there were other people wearing collars, he decided to start with one of them. He made eye contact with a girl by the bar. She looked away, seemingly too shy to talk to him when he sat down next to her. He ordered a drink and got an odd look from the bartender. He fingered the leather collar, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks. The girl next to him glanced over at him and smiled. 

“Are you here with your Dom?” She asked. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to say so he nodded. It felt strange admitting that he had a ‘Dom’, he was suddenly grateful that it was dark and he was sitting close to the bar. “Are you?” He asked.

“Yeah. He doesn’t really like me talking to people without permission, but other submissives are okay.” 

Dean sucked in a deep breath trying to fight the urge to argue about being called a ‘submissive’. “Did you hear that people have been going missing from this place over the last few weeks?” She nodded and he continued. “Do you know any of them?”

“One of them yeah, Aurora Skye. She was one of my friends. She met up with this guy here the other night and she hasn’t been answering my calls. It’s not like her to not call me back. We talk every day.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like?” 

She nodded looking over Dean’s shoulder “Like that…” She said pointing to a raven haired guy standing against the wall by the door. He appeared to be surveying the room with steely grey eyes. He caught Dean’s gaze and locked on, staring at him hungrily as though he could capture him with just a look. It was unsettling and Dean instantly felt uncomfortable. He glanced around the room looking for Sam. He couldn’t see him anywhere. He downed the rest of his drink and thanked the girl before getting up and crossing the room towards the creepy possible-vamp guy.

The man cornered Dean and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “You’re a very pretty boy. I want you to come out back with me. I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“Excuse me?!” Dean almost punched the guy in the gut, but if he _was_ a vampire then he’d need to get to his machete which was in the trunk of the car. The man reached up and stuck his index finger through the O ring on Dean’s collar. 

“Get your hands off him!” Sam shouted. Dean hadn’t even seen him approach, but he was suddenly close enough to hit the guy.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize he had a Master already.” The guy said backing down. Sam stared him down until he walked away.

“I could have handled it myself Sam.” Dean growled. He was pissed that Sam seemed to think he needed to be saved, but Sam was grinning like an idiot.

“I’m sorry Dean, but I just can’t take you seriously right now.” Sam pressed his body up against Dean’s shoving his back against the wall. He grabbed his wrists and pinned him there in front of the entire club. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Showing everyone who you belong to. I should have left the cuffs on.” Sam’s voice was thick with lust, it had Dean weak in the knees again. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and he felt that urge to submit filling his entire body. He fought against it, not wanting to give in, not in front of all these people who were already staring at him like a sex object.

“Not here Sammy. Please?” He looked up at Sam pleadingly from beneath his ridiculously long lashes. Sam leaned in and bit his bottom lip. He gasped and arched his back as much as he could with Sam’s hard body pressing against his chest.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” Sam’s thumb slid over his lip. He couldn’t resist much longer. He needed Sam **now**. Sam grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to the exit, the eyes of everyone in the club were on them, Dean stared at the floor the entire way, overcome with embarrassment. In the cool air of the parking lot the creepy man from the club confronted them, his features contorting as his fangs descended. In one smooth movement Sam beheaded him with his free hand, never letting go of Dean’s wrist.

“What the fuck, where did you even get that knife?!” 

“It was in my pocket. Cargo pants man, you have no idea what I can hide in these.” Sam laughed as they got into the impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I secretly love P!aTD but I don't think Dean would... lol.. shhhh. Don't tell anyone. Also I had to come up with something to get Dean to wear eyeliner cause guys in eyeliner are just so hot.


	9. Patience is a Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam teaches Dean a lesson about patience.

Dean’s hand snaked into the waistband of Sam’s pants. 

“Hands off Dean! I’m trying to drive!” Sam scolded.

Dean pouted and pulled away reluctantly. He sat there staring at his lap for approximately two minutes before he was leaning over and kissing Sam’s neck. The couple of shots he had had at the bar were not helping him control his urges. 

“Fuck Dean.” Sam pulled the car over and parked in an empty parking lot. “You can’t even wait until we get back to the motel?”

“Nope.” The Arizona air was hot and dry and Sam’s skin shone with a sheen of sweat. Dean was all over him, fingers fumbling in their haste to unzip his jeans. Sam grabbed both his hands and held him still. 

“Just hold on a minute.” 

“I can’t Sammy.” Dean pressed his lips against every available inch of flesh he could reach. “Want you. Now.”

Sam pushed him off with one hand. “I said **wait**. You’re having a hard time listening tonight.” Dean wrestled his arms free from Sam’s grip and tried to wrap them around Sam’s neck. Sam was right, he _was_ having a hard time listening. He didn’t even really care that Sam was telling him to stop. “That’s it. Get out of the car. Now.” Sam ordered. Dean stared at him momentarily, debating with himself. Sam opened his door and got out. “I’ll go over there and drag you out if I have to.” He threatened. Dean got out of the car as Sam was coming around to his side and found himself shoved face down over the hood of the Impala before he could turn around. Sam pulled down the waistband of his pants exposing his bare ass for any passers-by to see. 

“What are you doing Sam?!” He was pretty sure he already knew, and it was 2am so the likelihood of anyone seeing them was fairly low, but it didn’t stop the nervous anticipation building in the pit of his stomach. Sam said nothing, but he could hear him removing his belt. The first blow still took him by surprise even though by all accounts he knew it was coming. He moved out of the way before the second one landed, pissing Sam off even further. “Let me suck you off, please?” There was nothing holding him down forcing him to endure his punishment so he decided he didn’t have to. All he could think about was Sam inside him, he figured that would please Sam. It didn’t.

Sam looked frustrated. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from one his giant pockets. “I didn’t want to have to use these, but I can see that you need them.” He wasn’t wrong. Dean backed away from Sam, he wasn’t exactly excited about being punished. “Don’t make me do this Dean, this will hurt less if you just submit so…” Yeah that wasn’t going to happen. He turned to make a run for it but Sam caught his wrist and snapped one of the cuffs on. Dean struggled with him briefly, his attempts at escape were quickly thwarted though and he had both hands cuffed behind his back in short time. He honestly hated handcuffs, they were the least comfortable restraint he’d ever been in. Sam bent him over the hood again and resumed his work with the belt. Every painful blow made him want Sam inside him even more. He bit his bottom lip trying to keep his cries to a minimum in case anyone happened to be wandering around outside at two in the morning. It was humiliating enough without an audience.

When Sam finished with him his legs were shaking and he had to be helped back into the car. Sam refused to take the handcuffs off, to keep him from being a distraction again while he drove them back to the motel. When they got back to their room Sam put the leather cuffs around his wrists without even removing the handcuffs. “Seems a bit like overkill don’t you think Sammy?”

“Not at all. You seem to have a hard time staying in place on your own.” Sam was fishing around in his duffel bag. “You’re in luck.” He smiled as he pulled out a length of rope from a nondescript black bag, “The clothing store wasn’t the only place I went today.” He threaded the rope through the D rings on the cuffs and up around his arms binding them together tightly all the way up his forearms to just above the elbows. This position forced his chest forward and his shoulders back. Sam’s hand slid up the tight shirt to pinch his left nipple. He was breathing heavily and leaking precum when Sam let go and removed the handcuffs. 

“Please fuck me already. I need you inside me.” He panted, tugging at the ropes securing his arms in place. 

“Ha! I have no intention of fucking you right now, though believe me I want to. No, you need to learn a lesson first. I told you to wait and you disobeyed. Now I’m going to _make_ you wait.” Sam pushed him onto the bed face first and pulled down his pants. He could feel something cold and slick against his hole and then it was inside him, pressing against his prostate. He tried to rock back onto it, to make it move inside him somehow, he needed some sort of friction, but Sam held him in place. Then Sam’s hand was around the shaft of his cock. He felt something tighten around the base of it and Sam removed his hand. “Now you won’t be able to cum no matter what I do to you.” Dean could do little but moan in response, suddenly wishing he had made better choices. 

Sam pulled his pants back up and sat him in a chair by the table. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted more friction from the plug in his ass or less since he couldn’t cum with the cock-ring on. It was maddening being this turned on and unable to do anything about it. Then Sam grinned at him and flipped a switch on a little remote. The plug started to vibrate inside him. Ah fuck no. “Sam ple- please. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was impatient, you can’t- ahhhh. Stop- unnnnn” The words wouldn’t come out, Sam was pressing buttons, making the vibrations inside him more intense just to mess with him. He felt like he was going to explode, but obviously couldn’t. This was by far the worst kind of torture he’d ever endured. Sam leaned across the table and started kissing him passionately, biting and sucking on his lips, one hand in his hair, the other reaching up his shirt to tease his nipples. He couldn’t keep himself from panting and moaning and squirming in his seat. 

“You want more baby?” Sam taunted as he moved away from Dean’s lips. He nodded, completely dazed and Sam turned up the speed on the little remote. Fuck, that’s not… Hhhhh. 

“Pleeease Sssam.” His body was practically in spasms from all the stimulation. Sam took his laptop out of his bag and opened it up on the table looking smug. 

“I think I’m going to do some online shopping. There are a few things I can see are missing from our toy box now that I’ve got you like this. You just sit there and look pretty, and reflect on the meaning of the saying ‘patience is a virtue’. Okay?”

He couldn’t control the sounds he was making, some of it was begging, but most of it was just nonsense and trying to catch his breath as the pulsing inside of him went from weak to strong over and over again in waves. Bringing him to the brink of orgasm and back again, endlessly, without any hope of relief. Sam made him endure what felt like an eternity of torture. His voice was hoarse by the time Sam turned off the vibration. He couldn’t take anymore. If Sam didn’t give him what he needed soon he was going to cry. Fortunately Sam could tell he was at his breaking point and carried him over to the bed. He took out the plug and replaced it with his cock, filling him perfectly. 

“Please can I cum Sir?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice. He didn’t care.

Sam rode him hard, pounding against that tender, overstimulated area inside him. His hand was around Dean’s cock, sliding up and down the shaft, teasing him. It was almost worse than the plug, he had never wanted anything so badly in his life and it was so close, and yet so far. Finally Sam removed the cock ring and bit down on his collarbone, and that was it, he lost all control. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. It was almost too much to handle. He couldn’t even make himself roll over and out of his own sticky mess afterwards. 

Sam freed him from the ropes and gently cleaned him up. He was shaking and out of it and just let Sam move him around like a doll. Sam wrapped him in a blanket and draped his arms over his waist and they fell asleep like that next to each other on the bed.


	10. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally have a real Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, finally!! This has taken me forever and a day to finish this chapter. First my tablet died and I couldn't get it to turn on again, and then well I got distracted with real life activities, apparently those real life things really detract from my writing. And as for Christmas when it's September in the real world? I don't know, I was rewatching the series as usual and got to the Christmas one and thought they need a real Christmas. So here it is.

Dean gasped when he saw the Christmas tree, the reflection of the multi-coloured lights twinkled in his green eyes. It was huge and it smelled wonderful and underneath it were tons of neatly wrapped presents. They’d never had a ‘real’ Christmas before. There were stolen wreathes and dismal holidays in dark motel rooms with presents bought from gas stations, but never anything like this. Sam walked into the room in a robe holding his morning coffee.

“You like it?” he gestured toward the tree with his mug.

“You did all this Sam?” he looked around the bunker and noticed decorations everywhere, garlands and mistletoe and stupid red bows with bells on them. It was amazing.

“Well yeah. The last Christmas we had was before you went to… With the Pagan gods… Anyway I just wanted us to actually celebrate this year. You know, do it right for the first time. I invited Bobby and Cas for dinner tomorrow night too. We’re going to have a big dinner with turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and whatever else people eat that doesn’t come from a convenience store.” 

“Wow Sam, this is amazing.” He turned away, as he could feel his eyes starting to water a little. “There are so many presents under the tree, are they all for me?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow morning, it’s not Christmas yet.”

“I hate waiting.” He muttered with an adorable pout.

“Do you remember what happened last time you were impatient?” Sam chided. Dean shivered and looked down at the floor demurely. “I have no problem wrapping _you_ up like a present if you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that one.” The thought occurred to Dean then, that he hadn’t really bought anything for Sam and it was already Christmas Eve. To be fair he hadn’t had any clue that Sam was going to go all out like this. But still… He felt slightly guilty that he didn’t have anything to give his brother. He wandered into the kitchen to look for something he could make or gift Sam in some lame attempt to reciprocate. The kitchen was a bust but he decided maybe there was something buried somewhere in the bunker that might be useful, maybe in one of those old dusty rooms they hadn’t checked out yet. 

He was headed down the hallway when Sam grabbed him by the arm. “Where are you off to?” He asked as he pinned him to the wall and leaned in for a kiss. Dean squirmed a little as he tried to come up with a lie. Sam’s lips were so distracting though, it didn’t take him long to forget what he was actually doing. 

“I don’t know…” he mumbled sincerely when Sam finally pulled away. 

“You aren’t trying to get out of making breakfast are you?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, of course not.” He wasn’t sure how he had forgotten about that, and the punishments that would likely follow if he neglected his domestic duties. Sometimes the punishment was well worth it, but he actually enjoyed cooking. It was something he was good at, something he took pride in. 

“Well then let’s get you back to the kitchen.”

“I’m not your housewife Sam.” He grumbled.

Sam winked at him with his stupid smug look. “No, of course not.” Dean shot him the side eye as he went back to the kitchen.

He fried up some bacon, followed by hash browns and eggs and in between that he managed to cut up bananas and mango and peaches and threw some berries on top to make a fruit salad for Sam. When it was ready he laid everything out on the table as he was required to do and sat down at the table. Sam seemed pleased with his offerings, despite the obvious greasiness of most of the food. Dean was halfway through his meal when Sam scooped up a spoonful of fruit and commanded him to open his mouth. He blushed but did as he was told. Sam hadn’t fed him like that since the cabin. It felt surprisingly familiar and oddly comforting in a way. Sam grinned and fed him another spoonful. Dean shook his head when Sam tried to feed him a third and Sam laughed and went back to feeding himself. They finished up and Dean cleared the table and washed the dishes while Sam dried and put away.

They sat down together in the library and Sam continued working on his latest project, which was a searchable digital database of supernatural creatures. Dean was mostly staring at the decorations and absentmindedly playing with his cuffs. He knew he should be doing some sort of work, but they had agreed not to take on any new cases over the next few days so they could take the time off to celebrate for a change. He suddenly remembered his idea to find something for Sammy in the bunker. There were rooms they hadn’t explored yet and he was hopeful there would be something interesting in one of them. He got up to look and Sam closed his laptop. “Where are you going?” 

“Um nowhere. I just wanted to look around the bunker a bit.”

“Sit down.” Sam said. 

“What, why?” 

“Because I said so.” He stated.

“Fuck that.” He got up and headed out of the room. Sam followed him and slammed him up against a book shelf. “What are you-”

Sam’s lips were up against his. He couldn’t help but be aroused by Sam taking control, as annoying as it was. Sam’s tongue invaded Dean’s mouth, seeking something, though he wasn’t sure what. Sam’s body was pressed up against his, and his hands tightly gripped the cuffs around Dean’s wrists. He pushed back against Sam, relishing in every movement he was denied. Sam moved his wrists up above his head and held them still with one hand so he could slide his arm up Dean’s shirt and tease his nipple. Sam’s lips moved down Dean’s neck and he licked and sucked his way to his right collar bone, where he pulled aside the neckline of his shirt and bit down. 

“Nnggh” Dean’s head rolled aside and he surrendered his neck to Sam. “Mmm Sammmmyyy”

Sam’s lips were gone all too quickly and he pulled Dean back to his chair and shoved him down. “I said _sit down_. Now **stay**.” Sam returned to his own seat. “I want you where I can see you.” 

“Why?”

“I like looking at you.” He smiled.

“Whatever.” He tried to grumble in response, turning away to avoid letting Sam see the look on his face. 

They spent most of the rest of the day in the library. Sam suspiciously wouldn’t let him leave the room without supervision, which was starting to get really irritating. Every time he tried to get up and go somewhere, Sam stood up and either followed him or cornered him and distracted him. He got up again after dinner and made another attempt to leave the room. Sam looked like he was starting to get pissed this time. 

“You already went to the bathroom several times. Where could you possibly be going now?” He growled.

“I’m bored. You’re busy with your database, and I’m not allowed to leave the room by myself. This sucks. I’m not a baby Sam. You can’t make me stay here all night.”

“Yes. _I can_.” Sam’s eyes narrowed with determination and Dean swallowed as the tiny spark of fear lit inside his stomach. Dean briefly considered his options, fight or flight, fight or flight. He scanned the room looking for a plan of action. He barely got up out of his chair before Sam had him by the arm. They wrestled with each other briefly until Sam managed to push him back down into the chair and lock his cuffs to the chair arms. He pulled on them uselessly, starting to get frustrated. Sam’s hand brushed against the bulge in his jeans, teasing him. “In the spirit of Christmas, I’m not even going to punish you for your poor listening skills and your disobedience.” He growled at Sam in response, not nearly as grateful as Sam seemed to think he should be.

He alternated between bored and sexually frustrated while he sat there watching Sam stare at his laptop screen. He started to think even punishment would be better than this. He started singing at one point until Sam threatened to gag him. The rest of the evening passed by painfully slowly until Sam was finally ready to go to bed. He brought Dean to the bathroom first and then to his bed and cuffed his right wrist to the bedpost. He complied mostly, in hopes that Sam would at least fuck him if he was well behaved, but instead they both just fell asleep. 

Christmas morning Dean woke up before Sam, eagerly anticipating opening all the presents under the tree. If he hadn’t been cuffed to the bed he probably would have got up and went to shake all the boxes and try to figure out what was in them. He rolled over and jabbed Sam in the side. “Wake up Sammy! I want to see what’s under the tree!” he was ridiculously excited. Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and gave Dean a dopey smile. 

“You’re so cute.” Sam sat up with his messy bedhead and unlocked his wrist. Dean practically jumped out of the bed and ran down the hallway. 

“Hold up, you have to make breakfast first.” Sam called after him. Dean groaned. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to open his presents **now**. 

“Fine.” He said with a sigh, “But can we count breakfast as my gift to you, because I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Oh don’t you worry about that, I think by the end of the day you’ll have given me a _lot_.”

Dean wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean but it sounded vaguely foreboding. He got to work making breakfast as he mulled over what Sam meant by that. He mixed together the homemade waffles as quickly as he could and beat the whipped cream on the mixer’s highest setting. He even chose blueberries as the fruit because they didn’t require any cutting or other prep work. Sam chuckled at his haste in cooking. When everything was ready and on the table Sam pointed at the floor beside his chair. Dean shook his head. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. Sam just shrugged, and Dean was slightly disappointed he didn’t press the issue further.

When all the dishes were finally washed and put away and they each had a mug of hot coffee they headed over to the massive glimmering tree together. Dean noted that there were even little candy canes adorning the branches. His mind flashed back briefly to the last Christmas they had celebrated where he almost had a tooth ripped out of his mouth and was suddenly grateful to not be working any kind of job for once, and to have Sam with him. They even had a real home now. Sam gestured for Dean to sit so he pulled up a chair and Sam passed him the presents one by one. The first one he opened was some band t-shirts. Followed by several pairs of fancy silk boxers in multiple colours. There was a set of bed sheets, and a comfy robe, and a bunch of other random things. The last few he opened had black mascara and eyeliner along with some sort of glitter-filled spray. He gave Sam a little indignant look as he opened those. When he had finally opened everything under the tree Sam handed him a red stocking. He pulled out a chocolate orange and some sort of black satin sash. He looked up at Sam expectantly wondering what the sash was for. 

Sam came around behind him and took the sash, tying it over his eyes. “What are you doing Sammy?” Dean asked as he swallowed hard.

“I’m taking you to the rest of your presents.”

“There are more?” What else could Sam possibly give him? And why did he need to be blindfolded?

Sam led him by the hand, through the bunker. They seemed to be walking for a while, and then there was a door opening and some stairs leading down. Since when did they have a basement? Finally they were at the bottom of the stairs and Sam took off the blindfold. The sight before him was both exciting and terrifying. They were standing in a room that appeared to be almost as big as the entire bunker. There were iron chains on the walls, hooks in the ceiling, a wall full of whips and floggers and other implements, and a number of wooden structures, the purpose of which was definitely something kinky, whatever it was. 

“You built a dungeon Sam?”

“Actually I found it, and just sort of added some stuff to it. Okay a lot of stuff… Do you like it?”

Dean swallowed loudly. Did he _want_ Sam to use all those things on him? Yes. Was he going to just _let_ him? No. Absolutely not. “…Yes?” He said undecidedly, at last.

“You look a little scared.” Sam jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

“M’not scared.” Dean sniffed. “I just uh… need to pee. I’ll um.. be right back.” He started backing toward the stairs.

“No problem, the bathroom is right over there.” He pointed to a door on their left inside the dungeon, blocking him from going back upstairs. 

“Oh kay...” He reluctantly went to the dungeon bathroom, trying to think of another way to get out of this. When he came out Sam was standing in front of the closed door to the stairwell. His only escape route was blocked. He wandered around the dungeon slowly, looking at the strange items within. There was even a large four poster bed with black satin sheets. He walked past it and paused at a large wooden X with O rings on all 4 ends. Sam caught him staring at it.

“That’s called a St. Andrew’s cross.” He explained casually. “I can show you how it works…” He suggested with a smug grin.

A flush spread throughout his body as he pictured being cuffed to that cross, spread eagle and completely at Sam’s mercy. He walked away from it perhaps a little too quickly. “Nah, I’m good. Maybe you could just draw me a diagram or something.” He quipped in an attempt to cover his excitement.

Sam laughed and followed Dean with his eyes as he continued through the room, checking out some sort of stool with soft leather padding and more O rings drilled securely into it. He started to feel the heat of Sam’s eyes on him, realizing that all these things were for him, that Sam was looking at him like _he_ was a sex toy, that he _was_ essentially, exactly that. Sam was probably delighting in his distress, waiting for him to choose the implement of his own torture. Sure he’d endured his fair amount of pain and torment in their line of work, but that was different. That was usually adrenaline fueled, fight or die type of situations, the pain of it never really sunk in until after the fight was over and Sam was patching him up. And he’d also endured a lot of agony at Sam’s hands when he was soulless, but that was different too. In every instance he’d had no choice. Now with Sam, the way things were, he had a choice. He was choosing to endure it. He even _enjoyed_ it. **A lot**. But that didn’t make it any easier to submit, to be complicit in his own torture. Sam seemed to be able to read his mind, or perhaps he was just growing tired of waiting.

“Over here, now. I think I want you in the stocks.” 

“I think I’ll pass thanks.”

“Do you really want to be defiant in a room full of restraints and whips?” Sam asked incredulously. He had a point. Dean backed away toward the far end of the room. He turned and glanced briefly behind him and discovered there were two jail cells with metal bars built into the dungeon. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “I’m going to give you the choice, submit now and I won’t have to punish you. Or you can make this hard on yourself. You know I’m going to overpower you eventually anyway.” Sam’s voice was loud and echoed across the room as he advanced toward Dean. Butterflies filled his stomach, launching him to action. He ran. Sam tackled him to the ground quickly. He went down hard, probably bruising both his knees in the process. 

Sam flipped him onto his back, pinned his arms down above his head and bit at his neck. He could feel the urge to give in as Sam’s hot, wet mouth attacked the hollow above his collar bone. He decided that he wouldn’t let himself be taken quite so easily though and used all his strength to roll the two of them over so he was on top of his brother. As he attempted to wrestle Sam’s arms down he sat up and head-butted Dean in the face. “Hey!” He let go of Sam to wipe away the blood from his nose. Sam threw him off and grabbed him by the wrists, dragging him across the room to the giant X thing. He practically ripped off his shirt before slamming him face first against the sturdy cross. He fought against the weight of Sam’s body pressing him into the smooth wood, while Sam stretched his arms one at a time to the metal rings, locking his cuffs onto them with a resolute click. Sam walked away for a minute and came back with ankle cuffs, and then forced Dean’s legs apart despite his protests, attaching those to the wooden cross too. The thing was solid, he wasn’t going anywhere. He pulled on his restraints anyway. 

He could feel Sam’s finger tracing down the length of his spine, sending chills through his whole body. And then he was gone somewhere behind Dean out of his line of sight. “Sammy, what are you doing?” he could hear his own voice cracking a little. Sam didn’t respond. Dean could feel the rush of fear and excitement building up inside the pit of his stomach. Sam’s punishments since they’d left the cabin had been mostly just spankings but he still had his pants on, so that was unlikely, especially in a room full of sex toys. Dean caught a glimpse of Sam as he returned, out the corner of his eye.

“Sam… Is that a whip?” He pulled frantically on the leather cuffs holding him in place.

“No, it’s a flogger. Completely different.” Dean wasn’t convinced. Sam continued, “I want you to count for me.” Sam stated. Dean shook his head, and pleaded with Sam. 

Sam brought the flogger down across his back, lightly at first. Sam was right, it didn’t feel the same as the whip, it had a much heavier impact and didn’t sting or bite the same way. Dean counted as the blows landed, it didn’t hurt at first, but by the fifteenth blow Sam was starting to put real weight behind each strike and he couldn’t keep himself from crying out as he counted. By the twentieth, he was certain he could feel the bruises forming, but he wasn’t ready to give in. By the twenty fifth he was ready to be good for Sam. He knew he could end it with one word, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He started to beg instead, Sam continued flogging him, which as much as he hated to admit turned him on _a lot_. He counted 5 more blows before Sam finally stopped. He put the flogger down and picked up something else and then his warm hands were on Dean’s back, gently rubbing in some sort of soothing cream. Then Sam’s lips were on his neck, kissing softly. He whispered in his ear. “You took that so well, are you ready to be obedient now?” he nodded slowly. 

“Yes Sir.” He hadn’t endured such a harsh punishment in a long time. He felt kind of high after Sam took him off the X. Strong arms guided him over to the bed, which was good because his legs were kind of shaky. Sam left his side for a moment and came back with a glass of water and helped him sit up. He drank about half the glass and handed it back to Sam who put it on a nightstand next to the bed.

“Are you feeling alright now?” He asked with some concern.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Do you need anything else before I tie you up again?” Sam asked as he pulled out a length of black rope. Dean’s face must have registered some amount of surprise upon seeing the rope, judging by Sam’s reaction. “You didn’t actually think I was done with you, did you?” Dean shook his head. He didn’t want Sam to be done with him. “On your hands and knees then, I won’t make you lie on your back. It is Christmas after all.” Sammy pulled his pants down enough to bare his ass and then pulled his hands to his knees, threading the rope through the D rings on his cuffs and around each knee. Then he pushed his legs as far apart as they could go with his pants down, it was slightly uncomfortable. He felt Sam’s finger slick with lube pressing up against his hole. He squirmed against both Sam and the ropes. He received a prompt swat on the ass in response. “Hold still.”

“Make me.” 

Sam slapped his ass again, harder this time. “I thought you were going to behave?” He thrust in two fingers at once without warning making Dean yelp and tense up. That made it hurt more, which made him hard. He pushed backwards toward Sam, wanting nothing more than to be thoroughly fucked. Sam finger fucked his ass for a few minutes and then withdrew.

Dean whined at the sudden emptiness. “Want you in me Sammy… please.” Something hard and cold slid inside him. The plug again. He groaned. “Please no. Sam.” 

“Shut up.” Sam walked away for a minute and when he came back he shoved some sort of metal ring into his mouth and tightened the straps holding it in place. A twinge of helplessness sent blood rushing to his cock as he tried to push the gag out with his tongue. It was humiliating having his jaw forced open and not being able to do anything about it. He could moan and he could scream but not much else. He could hear Sam get up and walk away from him.

He tried to call him back but “Ahhh” was all that came out of his mouth. He squirmed in the ropes trying to see if he could get hold of a loose end around one of his knees, but the knots were well hidden from his fingers. He was starting to get frustrated when Sam finally returned, carrying something that Dean couldn’t quite make sense of. He thought knew right away when he felt the intense burning sensation on his battered back. Wait, not burning, freezing. Sam was definitely rubbing some sort of frozen wand across his back. He couldn’t decide whether it was soothing or immensely painful. It seemed to vary depending how long it stayed in one spot. He couldn’t keep himself from drooling or from torqueing his body away from Sam’s touches. Sam kept it up for a long time, as he squirmed and writhed, shifting the plug around. He wanted to be fucked so bad, but couldn’t even form the words to beg for it with that metal ring in his mouth.

Sam finally stopped and kissed his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and then biting down gently at first. He wanted to return the favour and kiss him back but couldn’t, frustrated sounds escaped his parted lips and Sam laughed. When Sam took the ring out of Dean’s mouth, his jaw felt so sore. He didn’t care though, all he wanted was to attack Sam’s mouth in return. It felt so good to be able to press his lips against Sam’s. When he pulled away and sat up Dean whimpered wanting more. Sam unzipped his pants and Dean opened his mouth in anticipation. Sam grabbed him by the hair and led him towards his hard cock. He lapped hungrily at the precum already leaking out. He needed more. Sam obliged and fucked his throat thoroughly until he spurted hot sticky cum which was eagerly swallowed.

“Please fuck me now, please.” He begged as soon as he was able to speak again.

Sam stroked himself until he was hard again and slid out the plug, making Dean gasp loudly. When Sam finally entered him he was so turned on he couldn’t keep himself still. He rocked his ass against Sam’s pelvic bone as best as he could in his position. He wanted harder, faster, just _fuck_. Sam took the hint and sped up his thrusts to Dean’s immense relief. As Sam pounded into hard into his prostate he couldn’t help but blow his load all over the comforter. He sighed and felt all the tension drain from his body as Sam joined him in ecstasy. When he was all untied and wrapped up in a blanket with Sam’s arms around him he closed his eyes and leaned back against Sam. 

“Merry Christmas.” Sam mumbled.

“Thank you Sammy. Really. For everything.” He murmured back. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to give you.”

“You give me the best gift ever. Every day.”

Dean playfully smacked him in the head, “Oh shuddup You’re getting sappy.” 

They spent another couple of hours in each other’s arms, blissed out from their 'festive' activities, before Sam had to get up to check on the food. Dean took the time to get himself dressed again before their company arrived. When he got upstairs Sam was on the phone. He smiled as he saw Dean enter the kitchen. “That was Bobby.” He said after he hung up. “He wanted to know if he could bring Sherriff Mills. I figured it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, cool. Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, not in here. Could you go set the table though?” Dean did as he was told and put out the plates and cutlery. 

It wasn’t long before everyone was sitting around the table, piled high with food. Cas didn’t eat much, but he seemed pretty happy to be surrounded by his friends and he made idle, awkward chatter with everyone. Bobby seemed to be able to tell the boys were in a better mood than usual, and he also seemed to be exchanging fond glances with the Sherriff as they ate. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier. And then Sam pulled out some sort of ring box and Dean was terrified he was going to propose to him in front of everyone. “What the hell are you doing Sam?!” he whispered. 

“Shut up,” He whispered back. Suddenly everyone was staring at them, all conversation at the table had stopped. “I couldn’t find the right type of box to put this in okay?” He said a bit louder so everyone could hear as he handed the box over to Dean. “Just open it, please.”

Dean opened the little box and stopped for a second, looking up at Sam questioningly. “You-” 

“Yes.” Sam said, “I knew you’d want it back…” he shrugged as he pulled the amulet out of the box and put it over Dean’s head, leaving it to rest around his neck, where it belonged.


End file.
